by: Zac Tomaszewski

Wanders the high plains of
Human history

Grandfather of us all
Ur-figure with a straight spine
He sits in the tall grass
And waits for the moon
He thinks we have forgotten him
And in many ways
We have

We forgot when it was his birthday
And the books that we borrowed from him

But he can still see us
Every time lightning
Flashes across the sky